


The Lights of Nangijala

by wewillalwaysenduphere



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Death and Dying, Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Brothers Lionheart, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: One warm summer night, when they were still outside, Alex curled up under blankets and watching the stars, he admitted, “I am afraid of death, Yassen.”Yassen had taken his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.“There’s an old story my grandmother used to tell me when I was little, about a world you go to when you die in this one."
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	The Lights of Nangijala

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to dedicate this story to someone dear to me who recently passed away. I am very grateful to you for all the motivation and inspiration to write, and for the wonderful writer’s space you created. I hope that you are in a better place, and I hope you know that even now that you’re gone you’ll live on in stories and memories. Thank you for everything.

Alex Rider had survived so much more than most people would ever encounter in their life, had dodged bullets and avoided death by a hair’s breadth, had brought down international terror organizations and prevented the world from being destroyed by nuclear weapons.

That he should die of a particularly aggressive cancer seemed like an unfair trade. After all he had done for this world – after all he had sacrificed and bled for, after all this, it was his own body destroying itself.

Mrs. Jones came by and told him she was sorry. Blunt sent a card, signed by himself. Alex supposed that he should be grateful for that, but he wasn’t. After the second round of chemotherapy, he wanted to give up. After the third, his doctors admitted that there was no reason to keep pushing. They could make him comfortable, he could enjoy his last few months. MI6 would put him up in a hospice, he would be taken care of and pain free.

Alex declined.

There had been a card, between Blunt’s and Tom’s and all his other friends’ that was mostly nondescript and signed only with the initials YG. Alex had always hoped that he would have survived, but he hadn’t been sure. Now, he left the front door of his Chelsea home open and hoped that Yassen would come by. If one of his old enemies came for him - well, at least he wouldn’t have to wait out the clock.

A few days passed until Yassen came to visit him. Alex heard him enter from where he was curled up on the couch. He had lost weight, looked a lot younger than his nineteen years. He was weak and skinny and no match for Yassen at all. But if the man had wanted to kill him, he would have died long ago.

When Yassen entered the living room, Alex was surprised to see how much he had changed. He looked his age, unlike he had years ago. There was a scar on his right cheek that hadn’t been there the last time they’d met.

Yassen still moved with his dancer’s grace, but his eyes held a haunted expression. He came closer, all the while holding Alex’s gaze, and it was both comforting and saddening to see your own brokenness in another person.

“I wasn’t sure you’d survived.”

Yassen’s reply came with the ghost of a smile.

“Sometimes I’m still not sure I did.”

Alex thought about that for a moment.

“What did they do to you after Air Force One?”

Yassen’s face went blank.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”

Alex thought it still mattered a lot, but he let it go. Sometimes, he was beginning to realize, it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

“I’m glad you came.”

Yassen nodded and sat down next to him. There was no bitterness on either side. The silence wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“I don’t want to die in a hospital bed, Yassen. Please – take me somewhere beautiful. Somewhere warm. I love the rain of London, but I don’t want to die here.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to expect, after all they hadn’t talked in years, but Yassen just looked at him and agreed. They left the country and made their way to Italy. MI6 didn’t bother searching for Alex. Yassen had chosen Tuscany, and Alex had always loved the region. Yassen had bought a small villa, made of sandstone and wood, a pool in the back of it, surrounded by beautiful, wild nature.

The sunsets were breathtaking and the sunrises amazing, and Yassen carefully prepared food for Alex every single day. He somehow had access to the strong opioids Alex needed to be mostly free of pain, and any other medication Alex had been given in the hospital. Alex had trouble breathing most days, but Yassen was patient with him, even carried him to bed if necessary.

Sometimes, they went on little trips. Yassen drove them to Venice where he rented a boat and showed Alex the smaller islands less overrun with tourists, the colorful little houses and old bell towers. They would curl up in the shadow of trees and Alex would nap on Yassen’s chest.

Their little villa had multiple bedrooms, but Alex moved into Yassen’s quickly enough. It was a natural progression, and the first time he watched Yassen change, saw all the scars from bullets, knifes and what looked like burns, he was happy he hadn’t asked Yassen for a longer explanation. Alex pulled him into bed and kissed him, and Yassen returned it carefully. Alex’s hands were gentle when they touched Yassen, and Yassen’s hands were reverent when they touched Alex. Their bodies told the stories of so much suffering and violence, they had no need to inflict more upon the other.

One warm summer night, when they were still outside, Alex curled up under blankets and watching the stars, he admitted, “I am afraid of death, Yassen.”

Yassen had taken his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“There’s an old story my grandmother used to tell me when I was little, about a world you go to when you die in this one. She said it is called Nangijala. The closer a human being comes to death, the closer the lights of Nangijala come. And when you’re about to die, there’s no reason to be afraid, because there will be no darkness – you’ll be able to see the lights of Nangijala from here. It’s a magical world, with princesses and dragons and lots of adventures. Maybe you can save that world too, just like you did this one.”

Alex laughed, but was interrupted mid-laugh by a searing pain in his chest, and he started to cough. Spittle and blood were coating his lips by the time he was done, and Yassen merely pulled out a tissue to softly dab at Alex’s chin and lips. Too exhausted to be embarrassed Alex allowed his body to fall against Yassen’s chest.

“That’s not true, though. There’s no such thing as an afterlife. There’s only death and then nothing, and my body will be eaten by bacteria and microorganisms.”

Yassen wrapped an arm around him.

“Do you want that?”

Alex realized Yassen would arrange for whatever funeral he wished, but he didn’t have the strength to think about that now. The fear of not only going but leaving Yassen behind. Everything was bearable with Yassen by his side, without him…Alex didn’t know what he would do.

“What I want is for Nangijala to be real,” Alex said, and he suddenly felt like a teenager for the first time in five years. He wanted to believe the story.

“Maybe it is,” Yassen said reasonably. “We have no way of disproving its existence.”

“But then what about you? I’ll be there and I’ll have to wait for decades to see you again.”

Yassen’s smile was soft and beautiful, and even his new scar couldn’t change that.

“My grandmother used to say that time passed different in Nangijala. That if she died, and I only died fifty years later, only a few days would pass for her and she wouldn’t forget about me, and when I arrived there she’d already be waiting.”

Alex curled up even closer against Yassen, eyes closed as if he could shut out the world if he just tried hard enough.

“I’ll be waiting there for you, Yassen. I promise.”

Alex’s eyes were closed, and so he didn’t see the tears Yassen had issues blinking away. But Alex felt the soft kiss to his hair, and he was glad Yassen was with him, and for every day together they had been given.

In the end, Alex didn’t have to wait out the clock. MI6 may not have been particularly interested in finding him – he was no longer a useful asset – but someone had obviously been very interested in finding Yassen. They had left their small villa for a trip to Milan – Alex had the idea to see da Vinci’s Last Supper, a particularly bad case of gallows humor as he would admit himself – and someone had found them. They were in a hotel, groups of well-trained operatives making their way up the stairs to their room, and there was no way to flee. Not for Alex, at least. He could barely run anymore, and Yassen wouldn’t leave him behind. A dumb decision, in Alex’s mind.

“Yassen – flee. Leave me here. My days are numbered anyway.”

Yassen’s blue eyes were hard as steel.

“Never.”

He came closer, turned around when he was standing in front of Alex.

“Climb on my back. I’ll jump.”

Alex’s throat closed up.

“No – no, Yassen, you won’t survive it.”

Yassen looked at him, a small smile on his lips.

“I’ll still have lived more than twice as long as you. It’s a fair trade.”

“It’s really not. You have decades left and I have weeks.”

Alex walked to the window, looked down. Even with Yassen’s body cushioning his fall…he wouldn’t make it. He had barely any time left. With determination in his eyes he turned around to Yassen.

“Let’s jump together.”

Yassen looked torn, genuine pain in his eyes.

“Alex – I don’t want you to-“

Alex walked up to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the floor to ceiling window, opening it with his free hand.

“Yassen, I’m closer to death than you are. I’m not afraid. If I have to go, I’m happy to do it with you.”

Yassen could already hear the boots of the soldiers coming for them, and he knew this was it.

“I love you, Alex” he murmured, pressing a desperate kiss to Alex’s lips.

“I love you, Yasha,” Alex gave back, using the name that was still new and precious on his tongue, shared only days ago. Then they parted and stepped up to the window, holding hands. Alex’s eyes were wet with tears, and the streetlamps down below seemed like dancing lights.

“I can see the lights of Nangijala,” he murmured, and Yassen made a sound like a strangled sob.

Then they jumped.

* * *

When Alex woke up, it was on a green meadow, under a blue sky. He was lying under a blossoming cherry tree which protected him from the rays of the sun. He took a deep breath and for the first time in months, there was no pain, no feeling of suffocation. Alex took another deep breath and laughed in relief, feeling free and young and happy. His laughter woke Yassen, who had been lying next to him. Yassen awoke slowly, in a way he had never while they were both alive. Or, alive in another world, Alex corrected himself, since both of them seemed to be plenty alive now.

Yassen looked around, confused. There was no more scar on his cheek, and the one on his neck had disappeared as well.

“Alex? Are you alright?”

“I’m good, Yassen – I’m _good_. Nothing hurts anymore.”

Yassen looked him over for a moment, before pulling him close for a hug. His arms were strong and tight around Alex, the kind of pressure he couldn’t have withstood anymore at the end of his last life.

When Yassen let go, Alex looked around once more, trying to blink the tears away. Everything looked old-fashioned. As if they’d gone back in time. Not too far from them was a beautiful old half-timber house, and they both got up to investigate it. It was surrounded by trees and flowers, and carried a sense of peace that was new to both of them. There was a letterbox with a name plate which read “Yasha and Alex Gregorovich”.

Alex laughed again, delighted.

“We are married here!”

Yassen nodded, a little stunned.

“My grandmother’s story…about Nangijala…things like that can’t be true-“

Alex interrupted him with a short kiss to his lips.

“Yassen, you can see it, you can feel it, we can even smell the flowers – it is real, what more do you need? Don’t you want this – with me?”

And Yassen, despite his skepticism, couldn’t help but agree. Alex’s eyes were so bright, he was so lively, and Yassen’s heart felt softer than it had been in decades.

“Yes,” he replied gently, “I want this – with you, Alex.”

Alex smiled and reached for the door to their new home.

“Then come with me.”

And Yassen did.


End file.
